


Antedate

by Smushed



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 04:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20147365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smushed/pseuds/Smushed
Summary: Heaven and Hell punished Crowley and Aziraphale for negligence of their duties (mostly, perhaps, because the two succeeded in embarrassing the higher-ups and resulted in tarnishing their reputation). Their punishment couldn't be simple, oh no, it was the most creative and cruel possible.Aziraphale and Crowley were forced to live a thousand lives on Earth, painful, clumsy,humanlives.They begin to surprise the demons and angels watching, managing to find eachother in each life. Sometimes they took two lifetimes to catch up with each other, often they were already in the throes of their own complicated life, without fail, they always died before they could connect the cosmic dots that brought them together.If Tragedy were a person, she would bang Heaven and Hell's heads together and say: "Even this is too much." Demon's don'tdosympathy, Angels don'tfraternise, but little miracles start cropping up here and there to help Aziraphale and Crowley.





	Antedate

Crowley was awake with a gasp, another sleep where his lungs were reluctant to give up overnight. The glaring white startled his vision and his pupils dilated at the vibrancy, he reached out his hand, so dark in contrast. It made his heart rise until his eyes adjusted and his heart sank again, fingers meeting the white cotton of the pillowcase, so firm where he expected something so much softer. 

Even though he had to bear the pain of his hopes falling, Crowley still left the curtains open in the bedroom when he went to bed. It was worth it for that little glimmer of joy in the morning. 

Wood thumped on wood like the heartbeat of an ancient oak tree as Crowley admired the familiar space, the history of humankind gathered in one room, and yet, it would be too much for him to ever finish. He picked up his next book and cradled it under his arm, slowly making his way to the back of the bookshop. He followed the droplets of red wine stains like Hansel and Gretel breadcrumbs, each a different colour and vintage of the millennia of wines they had drank.

The drops were imperceptible to most, masked by the flock print of the carpet, but Crowley catalogued every stain and every moment behind the laugh that caused the wine to tip from its glass in the first place. 

Crowley sat on his side of the couch and rested his stick against the arm. He held up the book and blew off the dust, gently wiping the cover with a weathered palm. Sunbeams cascaded along the bare side of the couch, only at this time of the day in the summer, and Crowley watched as the dust suspended in the light before falling gently like angel feathers. He smiled at it.

“I’m afraid I’m too old to keep the bookshop free of dust, Aziraphale. Forgive me?” 


End file.
